


The Spoils of War

by keanbeanz



Series: A Game of Helmets and The Forge [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blacksmith Tony, F/M, I Tried to Write Smut, Loki Does What He Wants and Gets What He Wants, M/M, Prince Loki, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Screwed up, Week without Internet and Procrastination on Assignments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keanbeanz/pseuds/keanbeanz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“By day you will forge our weapons.” He says softly his breath tickling Tony’s face, he closes his eyes and tries to ignore everything around him trying to focus on Pepper, he hopes she is okay, hopes he never did this to her, never hurt her like this.</p>
<p>He feels a new anger for the man then. How dare he be so selfish as to worry about him when he could have done this to Pepper, to his wife. </p>
<p>“Then.” And wow, he must be moving closer, there is a rustling of the sheets and the hand grows softer, their noses touch and he has to stop himself from spitting at the man from letting all his anger out on this creature who would do this to his friends and family. “By night you will warm my bed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a part of a series, I am writing the next one as we speak.
> 
> I really tried to write a sex scene and it turned out terribly and I am so sorry for that but it was important for the series that I am planning.
> 
> This all started when I was watching a documentary on Rome and I was like 'This is brilliant' and it all came from there.
> 
> Tony is around 18 in this story and Loki is well lets say 25.
> 
> I don't own any of these characters. Enjoy :)

They are walking through the camps boots squelching through the mud with a sickening sound that has the man wince with every squeaky sound they make, but he walks alongside anyway his cloak twirling in the wind as one of the generals talks to him about their loses and most importantly their winnings. He nods his head along trying to listen to what the man is saying but he can’t find himself to care, all he wants to do is bathe and sleep. 

“They lost half of their army before they gave in my lord.” The man finally says and it’s about time because they had almost reached his tent and he really doesn’t want to invite the other man in. He pulls a cloth out from his pocket and wipes some of the mud and blood, which seem to cake on his skin, off his face. He doesn’t get it all off and it seems like he really will need a bath.

“And their leader, Fury?” He asks his green eyes poking out from above the cloth; it smells faintly of his mother’s perfume. A gift from when his father had sent both he and his brother off on their missions. 

Naturally his brother, Thor, had gotten the most dangerous mission of tracking down one of Midgards best warriors, which meant he had gotten the best of the best in regards to soldiers, armour and weapons whilst Loki had gotten the left overs, not to say that his soldiers were not good, no because they were great and the kingdom of Asgard was known for their warriors durability and strength, it’s just that he could have used some of those soldiers that were off probably drinking and feasting while his were cleaning themselves up after a gruesome invasion of one of Midgards most wealthy cities.

“It seems he was spotted near the wall, reports say that Thor is tracking him down.” Not surprising really. Of course Thor would be the one to track down the Midgardian General, giving him all the glory. 

He shoves the cloth back into his pocket with a snarl and continues on, his tent stands out due to the large size as well as the men who stand guard, their armour polished and clean from the avoidance of battle, Loki considers them the lucky ones, the ones who stand guard and miss the bloodshed and carnage that is battle. However the soldiers and the guards no doubt consider it both mundane and degrading bringing no glory to themselves or their families.

“Your father would be proud of this battle.” Loki pauses inches from the threshold the guards now standing to full attention, their chins pointed up towards the sky in a show of respect to their prince. 

He turns slowly and faces the general, he is an old man, but he is strong his armour straight and almost seeming perfect, but there is blood above his eyes from a cut from a sword and blood and dirt cover his armour. 

He stares at the man for a while before looking over his shoulder slightly avoiding his eyes, he will not think of his father now, his blood boils slightly and he pushes it down with an indifference that seems to suit him so well. 

“Then why don’t you tell him that.” 

“Loki.” It’s a softness that has Loki finally turn towards the man who has a soft smile and it breaks his heart slowly. “He does love you.” 

Loki frowns and looks up again, his eyesight just above the shorter man’s head. He wants to believe that the man is telling the truth, he really does. He wants to think his father sent him on a mission that would bring no glory to him because he doesn’t want his youngest son to get hurt, he wants to believe that his father spends more time talking to Thor and looking out for him because he knows Loki is smart enough not to screw up. He really wants to believe these things but he can’t find the power to. 

“Will I see you tonight at the feast, My Lord?” 

Of course there will be a feast, no doubt in his honour, but after today, all he wants is a bath and to sleep so that he can wake up tomorrow and go over his studies before they get the message from either Thor or Odin to move on into another battle. 

Loki looks back down at the man and feigns a smile. “Perhaps,” he smiles honestly now, the one day he gets a feast in his honour is the one day he can’t be bothered to attend. “Perhaps not.” He clasps the man on the shoulder once more and turns back around. 

“Perhaps I will send in some entertainment later for you.” The man laughs, it’s merrily and all past disagreements forgotten. 

Loki is not stupid he knows what is meant by ‘entertainment’ and really why the hell shouldn’t he, he does deserve it after all doesn’t he?

“Perhaps.” He turns back slightly so that the man can see the wide smile that takes over his face, an invitation. 

“An old one, my lord?” the man asks again and Loki shakes his head.

“No they have been rather disappointing.” It’s true they have, sure they had done what they were supposed to, but Loki wants something with a spark, something that will not only pleasure him, but something that will entertain him as well. 

“A new one then. I think I can have something arranged.” He smiles as if he were expecting it and it would not surprise Loki if the man had already picked his next one out mid battle. “I think you will enjoy this one sire.” And with that he is off.

Loki thinks the guy wants a promotion and maybe if this one is good enough, he may just get his promotion. 

As soon as he enters the tent his shoulders drop immediately and he frowns to himself, the once calm and controlled leader becomes tired and relaxed as soon as he enters his home for the past few days. One of the slave girls is there immediately standing by the far wall, her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. 

“Fetch me water.” He says with a growl, the girl jumps slightly before rushing out of the tent, he would normally feel bad for her, but today he really can’t be bothered to feel bad for her, he is just too exhausted. 

His hands reach up towards his helmet and he immediately takes it off, a great weight suddenly disappears from his head and he can’t help but sigh as he drops the horned helmet onto his desk. 

He steps around the desk and drops most of his armour leaving him in his under armour. The girl returns with a large bowl of water her hair sticking to her forehead as she carries it inside, he can clearly see that it is too heavy for her, but he does not move to help her, she is a slave after all and he is a prince. It’s not his duty.

He watches her intently, waiting for her to finish her duties before he can finish up stripping. 

They had picked her up a few weeks earlier after invading a small farming town, she looked as if she didn’t belong there, as if she belonged in one of Midgards cities heading a trading company or being a ‘trophy’ wife to some wealthy man. She was beautiful and slender with orange hair, truly a beautiful woman, but not Loki’s type. 

She leaves the tub in the corner and without looking leaves the tent, possibly to the slave’s quarters or in other words a tent in the far corner farthest away from the soldiers and blacksmiths. He would worry of her safety in fears of his slave getting raped, but he knows the men will not touch her.

They wouldn’t dare touch what is his. He makes sure of it.

Slipping off his top he picks up a cloth and begins his cleaning, his eyes close momentarily at the cool water it shocks him slightly before shooting open as he begins the scrub, carefully cleaning his wounds, he has studied enough on battle wounds to know that most deaths in battle occur from disease and infection rather than in the actual battle. 

He doesn’t take his pants off, not yet. 

He will wait for his entertainment to do it for him.

He is washing his face when he hears a commotion enter his tent.

“Let go of me!” 

‘Ah’ he thinks to himself smiling at the sound. ‘So it’s a man tonight.’ He doesn’t dare turn around simply continues to scrub the rest of his body, the cold water not that much of a problem to him anymore. He has a feeling things will get very warm soon.

There is the rattling of metal and heavy footsteps that seem to clatter the tent with noise. 

“Get off!” another cry and Loki thinks this one is just like the others, and he frowns slightly he knows the drill and so do the guards. 

There is an ‘oomph’ as a punch is landed into the man’s stomach, Loki can just imagine him leaning over with a growl, punches usually shuts them up. They learn their place when that happens.

“Don’t” there is coughs and Loki idly wonders if the man will continue his sentence. “Touch what you can’t afford.”

And he can’t help but smile, perhaps the man will get a promotion as this one seems interesting.

“Learn your place boy!” A guard says before there is no doubt another punch addled to him. 

“Out!” Loki orders wiping his hands as he turns around to face the rest of the tent the cloth sits in his hand as he watches his guards leave. 

As soon as they are out of the tent he looks towards his toy for the night with a bland look. 

The man sits tied to the centre pole holding most of the tent up, his brown eyes stare defiantly back at Loki, who stops the twitch of a smile from forming. He looks short and young, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, his brown hair is cut short and messed probably from the battle or perhaps from being ruffed up by his men, he has a matching beard, no not a beard a goatee. He has heard of those, but he has never been able to grow facial hair like most men his age. 

All up Loki would describe him as a pretty boy, well maybe more if he didn’t have those welts around his face or the cut that seems to run just above his eyes. 

He turns around then throwing his cloth on the bed, he doesn’t notice how the man’s eyes follow the cloth and once he looks at the bed Loki can see the fear. He can sense it. 

“What is your name, boy?” His head swivels back towards Loki, his eyes widened and his jaw slackened slightly. 

“What’s it to you?” Ah yes this will be interesting then wont it.

Loki doesn’t hold back the smile as he moves towards his desk, sitting on the edge watching Tony. No one has ever talked to him like this before and he finds it exhilarating. 

“Answer the question child, before I grow weary.” He says picking up his chalice and taking a drink.

There is a grinding of teeth and Loki really can’t hide his amusement at the boy before him.

“Stark.” He says after a while looking over at the bed with a frown. “Anthony Stark.”

Loki almost spits his drink out. He knows the Starks, a family of well repute amongst Midgardian officials, he also knows Anthony, similar to his father Howard, both of whom are known around the kingdoms as being the best blacksmiths creating swords and arrows that could put anyone else to shame.

He could really use this boy.

Loki puts his chalice down slowly his eyes stuck on Stark as if he were seeing double. But he is Loki Odinson so he finds his voice quickly and regains composure almost instantly.

“What are you doing so far away from your father?” 

Anthony’s eyes tighten and he looks as if he is about to reach over and attack the man in front of him. Loki smiles widely and removes himself from the desk stalking towards the man on the floor. 

“What does Stark have daddy issues?” He kneels in between Starks legs with a wide lecherous grin that has the other man recoil, but he doesn’t know if it is in anger or fear. His hand moves up slowly and purposefully until he has the other man’s jaw between his fingers and he can feel the hair on his chin under his fingertips. 

“I hear they say the same about you.” And that’s it, Loki barely registers his hands movements until he feels a stinging in his palm and the other man’s face turns to the side immediately wincing as he does.

“Never compare myself to the likes of you.” His hand grips the man’s chin again, pulling his face until his eyes meet his. “Ever again.” 

With that he is up again, pouring himself more wine his back to the man who is tied to the pole. He wants to take his time with this one, unravel what he can from him about the Midgardian army then have his way with him and perhaps sending him back to his father, piece by piece.

“This isn’t my first kidnapping.” He says softly, so softly that Loki almost doesn’t hear him. “I’m not afraid of you.” It is said defiantly, confidently and he wonders who he is trying to convince. 

“No. But it may be your last Stark.” He turns around fully this time an extra chalice in his hand as he walks towards the other man who just stares back with no emotion, just a blank face and he wants to make the man feel something to see if he will react. “Depends on how well you behave.” 

He kneels down beside him and others him a drink. Stark gives him a blank look that clearly says ‘are you fucking kidding me.’ And Loki chuckles as if only just noticing the fact that his hands are bound. 

“Allow me boy.” He goes to pour the drink into the man’s mouth, but his lips thin into a tight line and his head moves back until it is fully pinned against the pole. “Drink!” Loki growls growing annoyed at the man’s insolence, one can only handle so much insubordination. 

The man shakes his head and Loki almost jumps on him pinching his nose so that his mouth will open, after a brief struggle Anthony’s mouth opens and he drinks everything Loki gives him. 

“There doesn’t that feel so much better?” he asks letting the man’s nose go and looking at him with a joy that makes Anthony’s anger flare and before he even knows what he is doing he is spitting the wine out of his mouth coating the prince in wine.

Loki growls at the man and tries to regain what is left of his composure.

“Yeah much better.” He smirks and maybe that is what does it, what finally brings him over the edge because next thing he knows he has ripped the ropes off the man and has thrown him across the room with strength no one ever thinks he has. 

Stark almost flies across the room until his head collides with what he thinks is a chest, the one that was beside the bed. Tears spring up in his eyes and his hand goes to rub the spot, it feels sticky and warm and he knows he is bleeding.

“Arsehole.” He winces and before he can say anything else Loki is walking towards him, no not walking, stalking, towards him with an edge in his eyes that has Anthony fearing for his life.

He tries to get up but the world spins as soon as his back is off the floor, Loki is closer to him now and his hand has found its way around his neck and he is lifting him and since when was this guy that strong, he had heard things of Thor being battle ready and strong, but not Loki.

No one ever said anything about the prince being strong.

“What did you call me?” he growls menacingly in his ear, he can’t help but notice how warm Loki’s breath is and he winces at the unpleasant feeling.

“I c-called you a-an” he takes a deeper breath and Loki’s fingers tighten, he thinks his face might be going purple but he isn’t sure. “A-arsehole.” 

He is dropped onto the ground and he immediately collapses onto his knees taking in a deep breath, the oxygen burns his lungs but he is grateful for it. He knows he is alive.

“On your knees.” Is the single command and Anthony really can’t be bothered kneeling, can’t find the will power to listen to what this man wants. Loki lifts his chin up with hard fingers and snarls at the man on the floor. “I said on your knees.” His head is shoved back and it isn’t til this moment that Anthony knows what he is getting into.

“Whoa, whoa.” He says trying to scramble away but Loki’s hand is on his shirt and he has ripped it off in a single movement that has Anthony confused and angry because hey no one rips that shirt. “I’m not into this kind of thing.” But Loki’s hand is now on the back of his head, his fingers locked into his hair and he is pushing the man towards his crotch until his face hits the fully clothed hard on.

“You like this boy?” He says and before Stark can come up with a witty retort his face is pushed further into the crotch until he can’t even close his mouth because of the pressure. “Huh, you like this you slut?” he growls biting his lips as he thrusts hard and fast into Starks mouth. 

There are tears in his eyes and he can’t believe this is happening to him, he won’t be able to look at anyone ever again.

Finally he is pushed away as his back hits the edge of the bed and he is sobbing slightly, trying to stand up. But Loki is there his hands on his shoulders again holding him in place as he shimmies out of his pants in a movement, his erection poking out to full attention as if about to slap him in the face. 

And it is the meanest, biggest, ugliest looking thing in the world and briefly Anthony has more respect for the women who suck him off on a regular basis. 

“Bite it and I will give you to the men for the night. I’m sure they will have some fun with you, boy.” Loki says and suddenly his mouth is forced open and there is a cock halfway down his throat, tears flow down his face and he hates this, why is he here? Why did he leave his father? Why didn’t he stay with Steve? Why didn’t he listen to Rhodey?

“Suck!” the prince orders and immediately all Anthony can do is suck, because he knows the sooner this is over, the sooner he can escape and go crying back to his father begging for forgiveness and that he will never sleep with another lords wife or daughter for as long as he lives.

So he sucks his tongue licking the underside of Loki’s cock slowly feeling the vein that seems to strain against the skin, then Loki starts thrusting slowly at first, rocking his hips before he starts plunging deeper and deeper, Anthony’s mouth feels raw as the head hits the back of his throat. 

Loki’s hand winds and coils into Starks hair pulling it with each ministration followed by a moan which is loud and obscene, let the men know what he is doing he doesn’t care. He just wants Stark to remember this to remember who did this to him, who he gave pleasure to. 

His stomach starts to heat up and no matter how desperately he wants to come down the man’s throat, he doesn’t because there is still more fun to be had, a lot more fun. 

Regretfully he releases his hold on the man’s hair and he pushes him back with an obscene pop as his cock leaves the warm cavern of Starks mouth with a pop.

Starks face is bright red and he splutters for air coughing and dry reaching all he can, anything to get the taste of another man’s cock out of his mouth. But what he gets in his opinion is not much better, Loki pulls him up until he is lying on the bed, with the Prince on top of him and he can’t help it, he swears he can’t help the fact he is getting hard. 

Because he doesn’t want this.

He doesn’t want any of this.

But his body betrays him.

Loki’s lips are on his and Stark doesn’t fight him when his tongue forces its way into his mouth, he can’t stop it he has already lost the battle, he can’t win. The kiss if you can call it that is messy and sloppy and mostly one-sided. 

Anthony’s arms stop trying to push the man on top of him off and instead he tries to imagine Loki is a woman, a woman he knows and loves.   
Pepper Potts.

No not Potts, Stark.

Pepper Stark.

He misses her and he wants to find her maybe after the war when everything settles down again and she decides to come back hopefully to forgive him for what he did. He regrets hurting her more than anyone else, more than his father, more than the Lord who caught him with his wife, even more than his mother.

Loki is kissing down his neck, his chest past his nipples after and experimental tug that has Anthony groan in a way that he really wished he hadn’t before Loki’s hands are on the edge of his pants, his finger travelling down eager to find the treasure that was awaiting him and when he found it Tony couldn’t help but wince and moan loudly at the same time.

Suddenly his pants were gone and Loki is stroking him slowly, he tried to stop his hips from bucking he really did but he can’t it just felt so good so nice to be touched like this and to be honest in his mind it was Pepper.

Pepper worshipping his body.

Pepper stroking him.

Peppers hands fondling his balls.

Pepper’s fingers breaching him.

Wait-What?

He looks down for a moment and remembers where he is and who he is with and he is panicking now to the point where he feels like he is going in hysterics, but Loki’s hand has covered his mouth and with a sly grin that really just had Anthony petrified he had added another finger.

Stark doesn’t hold back the scream he lets out at the feeling, Loki’s fingers are cold and the muscle around his arse is burning from the friction and expansion. 

“Stop. Please.” He whimpers but either Loki doesn’t hear him or he ignores him ad continues his movements.

“I bet you have never been fucked before, have you Stark. A guy like you has probably fucked a lot yes, but never truly been fucked.” And yep, there goes in another finger scissoring the muscle as if to accommodate Loki’s member and Tony can’t think straight. And then suddenly Loki does something, he touches something that has Tony see stars and there is a loud moan that escapes his lips and it’s so loud that even Loki looks up from what he is doing and smiles at the man.

“You are so delectable.” Loki says moving up Anthony’s body and swallowing more of his moans as he hits the bundle of nerves over and over again.

“F-Fuck you.” Anthony spits as Loki removes his fingers, spinning the other man onto his stomach with a smooth fluid motion that both shocks and surprises Anthony. 

There is a chuckle behind him and Loki’s hands have moved the younger man into position, with his bum high into the air, Loki lines himself up with him, the head just touching the ring of muscles and Stark winces, waiting for the moment when it goes in. 

But there is a tense moment and Loki is groaning and moaning silently and when Anthony turns around he can see why, the man pours some kind of oil onto the aching member and he is rubbing it in as if to cover it all, the sight scares Anthony more than it should. 

“Why would I do that when I can fuck you instead?” and then there is a large intrusion inserted inside him and he whimpers into the blankets. 

Loki gives him no time to adjust and simply thrusts in and out with amazing speed that has the bed completely rocking and squeaking, squeaking so loudly that is makes Anthony want to throw up to rid his stomach of all its contents and then to fall asleep for so long that he will forget all about this. 

Forget everything that happened.

Why did he have to go to this town on this day?

Couldn’t he have looked somewhere else for his missing wife?

“Fuck, you are tight.” He growls slapping Anthony’s cheeks as he does so, the man whimpers into his pillow praying to every god that this will be over soon. 

Then as if Loki has grown bored with their positions Stark is flipped onto his back with his bum up in the air, Loki still lodged inside of him his eyes staring deep into Stark’s who is wincing at the eye contact, he turns away slightly and Loki growls at him.

“Look at me!” his hand grips the younger man’s chin and his head is turned back around facing Loki, who smiles triumphantly as he plunges deeper and deeper into Anthony’s arse. 

He cringes slightly at the feeling whimpering and forcing his eyes shut, but all that gets him is a harder thrust and an order to look up.

Then Loki hits something, he hits that bundle of nerves again and Anthony moans loudly and grips the headboard in an effort not to touch the man on top of him, because he won’t touch him, he is trying not to acknowledge him as if doing so will help the pain go away.

But it’s not working.

Loki is groaning something and he hits the nerves again, one hand held firmly on the man’s chin, forcing him to look at him while he takes pleasure out on his body and Stark can’t find the energy to glare at the man, he can’t find any energy.

And all he can think is ‘you deserved this.’ 

It would bring tears to his eyes if he could fins the energy to care, but he really can’t.

And then Loki is leaning on top of him his hand bracketing Stark's head, Loki is sweating and his sweat lands on the blacksmiths head, he tries to blink away the droplets and Loki’s tongue is in his mouth again probing, exploring and he would do anything to be sick right now.

To throw up everywhere like the time he drank so much mead with Clint that they both had a vomit competition in their inhibited state. He was proud to say that he won that one.

Loki leans up thrusting harder than before and Anthony knows he is close to coming he has to be, and then those fingers have found their way around his manhood and he squirms uncomfortably from the slow rubbing. 

He needs more of it.

But he doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t want the man to touch him.

“Please. Please Stop.” He whimpers mustering up all his energy even going as far as to try and push the man off him, although he will admit it is a weak attempt, his head is still swimming from being thrown across the room and his shoulder is still sore from the battle.

Loki pushes the arm down, his thrusting paused for a moment until he has one hand holding both of Anthony’s arms above his head, pinning them with one hand. 

He feels broken and weak.

And seriously when did this scrawny Prince get so strong.

“Shut up, boy.” He hisses and his thrusting starts up again and the hand around his cock is gone and he whimpers at the feeling. Loki smirks down on his and his head lowers right down until his lips are touching Anthony’s ear. “Do you miss that child.” His hand trails down and touches the younger man’s cock teasingly and his body has taken over when he thrusts up trying to get more friction.  
There is a breathy chuckle, Anthony growls at the sound although it comes out more as a whimper and he hates himself for that. 

“Maybe if you are good I will let you come.” He sounds breathless and Stark knows he is close, he hopes it comes soon he really does because he wants this over he wants to go home and curl up in a ball in his mother’s bed, while she strokes his hair singing to him. 

There is a sharp pain on his neck, he almost doesn’t register it but it hurts so much and when he looks back up at Loki his mouth is covered with a crimson liquid one he has seen too much today.   
Blood.

His blood.

He shakes his head slightly and then lips find his, he can taste it. The metallic salty liquid on his tongue and yep throwing up would be really good right now.

A shudder runs through the man above him and the bed tremors and shakes with him, Stark cries out not in pain but relief because it’s over he has spilled his seed and it’s all over and he will be let go and then he can begin his search for Pepper all over again. 

“Anthony.” 

Stark has to double take, because that name did not just come out of the other guy’s mouth there is no way in hell that came out of his mouth. 

But it did because he says it one more time in a breathy moan that does things to his body and since when was he this hard, he shouldn’t be this hard. He doesn’t and didn’t want him.

But its biology.

Science.

The stuff he and Bruce do together when no one is around.

The only topic between his father and himself.

The hard thrusting stops and the random nature changes into a melodic rolling of the hips, this is worse. This is worse than the rough thrusting than the biting because Loki is kissing him softly once on the lips and once on his Adams apple which is bobbing along with his breathing.

Then the hands are on him, he has to force his eyes open, and since when were they even closed? 

They are soft teasing touches that has his heart beat erratically and he gets too hard, so hard that is becomes painful, so painful that he wants to scream and thrash. 

The rubbing goes harder and it chafes and hurts and he winces in pain. “Ah- Stop it! Fuck!” he cries, there is no oil and he needs the oil he needs it on him because this is way too painful.

Then almost as if Loki has answered his prayers there is something cold poured onto him and he nearly cries in relief. 

“Do you like this Pet?” 

He would spit at the man, really he would because his energy is coming back as his adrenaline finally hits him and just as he forces the spit up, Loki does something with his wrist that has Stark moaning whorishly instead and then Loki Thrusts a little deeper into him and he sees stars as he lets go.

“NO!” he cries out tears forming in his eyes, he tries to hold them back but he can’t they are already falling down his face as he comes, Loki’s hand catching it all.

He looks up at the Prince who pulls out of him with a wide grin and a chuckle and then he fades into darkness.

 

Stark knows something is off when he wakes up being spooned in a tent that looks way too royal for him. He stares across the tent trying to remember what happened the night before, he remembers the battle but nothing more.

He remembers standing next to Rhodey who was telling him, no ordering him to go back to the confines, but he didn’t listen he just grabbed a sword and shield and ran into the battle field when his friends back was turned.

But if he was here then where was Rhodey?

Did they have a victory feast and he simply got so drunk that he took someone home with him?

He doubts it because why the hell would he be in a tent then, wouldn’t he be in a house somewhere within the walls, because he is getting a vague feeling that he is no longer within the confines of the protective wall, one that his father had ordered to be built when news of the invading Kingdom hit.

No one had doubted or told him not to, who would order a man wealthier than the king after all? No one would, in fact the Starks were essentially the Royal family of Midgard, they were certainly more well-known than the king. 

He doesn’t even remember meeting the man.

He figures his dad is the king and is simply using his alter ego of Howard Stark, wealthy, genius, master blacksmith and father of one of the most infamous men in all of Midgard.

Because let’s not lie there is no doubt almost every piece of news on Anthony Stark is not good news. 

He shifts slightly and an arm pulls him closer, he groans at the contact all thoughts of having morning sex gone as soon as he feels something hardening behind him, and that ain’t no sword. 

He panics and tries to fling himself out of the bed, but there is a pain in his lower back and he feels as if someone has beaten him with a club over and over again on the same spot, he shifts in the bed only slightly so that he is lying on his back, the arm disappears and is replaced by a head, a head with dark hair resting on his chest hands that look too long just beside the sleeping figures face.

And it all comes back to him in a shattering moment of insanity.

He chokes back a gasp and his heart beats grows faster, way too fast for normal so fast that for a moment he thinks it may just explode out of his chest and destroy everything in sight.

His eyes force shut and he wills himself not to cry because he is a Stark god-dammit and Starks are strong and don’t break down in tears after sex, because that’s all it was. 

He tells himself over and over.

It was just sex.

Only sex.

You have done that before right?

But not with a man.

Maybe you deserved it.

You hurt Pepper because of sex.

She left because of you.

You deserved it you slut! 

And his breathing grows rapid and erratic, it’s his fault. It’s the only logical explanation. It’s all his fault.

He sobs slightly and throws a hand over his mouth to stop anymore sobs from escaping his dry lips, but he feels so sore and bruised and just that effort alone causes him pain.

“Stop moving.” The body on him demands in a sleepy tone that sounds way too demanding. But he listens to the sound because he doesn’t want it to happen again. He doesn’t want the man to touch him there again.

He doesn’t want to fuck or be fucked ever again.

Okay so that is a little drastic.

He doesn’t want to be fucked ever again.

There is movement at the front of the tent as a woman moves forward and she looks familiar. But it can’t be, perhaps he has been thinking of her too much, been thinking of her face for too long maybe it’s because he needs someone he cares for to hold him at a time like this. But when his lips form the word that has been on his mind for what feels like years, like decades and she looks up and he almost weeps in happiness.

“Pepper?” 

Her eyes shine bright but he doesn’t know if they are in happiness or tears.

“Tony?” 

And that word breaks him he smiles at her in a way that shows he has fucked up. It’s how they communicated with each other when they were angry or concentrating on something else, through their eyes and Tony hopes his are showing how god damn sorry he is for fucking everything up. 

She drops what must be fresh cloths and starts towards him, but just as she moves the tent flap opens again and there is the sound of chain mail that Tony knows very well.

And the moment is gone and Pepper has picked up the cloths and is arranging them accordingly, casting a sly glance over at her husband who lies in a bed with an invading Prince, who is still resting on Tony’s chest, but his poisonous green eyes are open and he is staring at the man at the entrance.

“What do you want Fandral?” he asks and Tony can detect the annoyance in his tone.

The man who is blonde stares intently at the scene with a wide smile on his face and Tony can tell that he would love to go out drinking with this guy, he would probably be a better wing man than Rhodey.

He doesn’t look at the man too long instead he turns his gaze to Pepper who holds it with a sad smile, he wants to fix the smile, to wipe it off her face and make her genuinely smile at him. 

But why would she you whore.

You cheated on her.

You always cheat on her.

And then all of a sudden he can’t look at her, he can’t look at anyone so instead he stares at the roof of the tent, its crimson walls shine bright as the morning sun casts a glow over the tent city.

“Your brother wishes to congratulate you.” The man says with a smirk.

Fandral walks around the tent dropping his helmet onto that desk beside Loki’s before taking up his position in sitting on the chair with his feet up in the air.

Tony can feel the burn of anger inside Loki as he gets off the bed throwing on a pair of pants in the process and Tony feels lost know, what does he do?

Does he just continue to lay in the bed oblivious to the world?

He doubts he can walk anyway, his body still aches from yesterday and last night’s events.

Loki rounds the bed and heads towards the tub in the corner taking one of the cloths Pepper had previously set up and dipping it inside the tub washing his face. 

Tony thinks the guy is a germaphobe, which is funny especially when he is living in these conditions.

“Leave.” He says to Pepper who bows slightly before rushing out casting a last glance at Tony, he can see the pain in her eyes and when he goes to follow Loki just stares at him.

“Not you, you will stay here.” 

Tony can feel both Fandral and Loki’s eyes on him and he flushes slightly pulling the covers up over his body again. 

He wants to leave and get out of the bed but he can’t because of the order, which he can’t believe he is following, but he feels dirty and cheap and he deserves whatever Loki is going to do to him, he just hopes it’s an execution or something, to rid him of this broken feeling. 

“You seemed to have fun last night.” Fandral says loud enough for Tony to blush slightly but he doesn’t know if it is in embarrassment or anger.

“Yes quite.” Loki says throwing the cloth into the tub of water. “A back door virgin.” He comments off handily and Tony’s fist tighten, what he wouldn’t give to punch the guy in the jaw so hard that he would go flying.

“Yeah I bet.” Fandral states peeling his eyes off Tony and looking back at Loki, who Tony would like to point out is still staring at the man in the bed with a queer expression. 

“So, how is my darling brother?” Loki asks pouring a chalice of wine for both men, Tony knows he will not be offered a drink, he is after all a slave, the man’s personal fuck toy for the night.

Fandral takes the cup with no comment and takes a sip from it. “Thor is fine, he has tracked down Rogers and they are planning a strike as we speak.”

Tony’s mouth slackens. 

Rogers.

Steve.

His friend.

His brother.

He stares intently at Fandral, his nerves exploding into even more nerves which are throwing up more nerves; essentially he has a lot of nerves right now on this subject. 

Loki notices Starks enthusiasm on the subject and smiles to himself before taking a long drink from his cup, his face falls back into a look of interest showing no hint of amusement.

“And how do our spies note, Rogers is faring?” he sets the cup down and sits on the corner of his desk and sits down beside it his back to Tony who lies in the bed completely stuck into this conversation.

Fandral smiles brighter than before and sets the cup down leaning in towards Loki. Tony can tell this guy is a stickler for gossip. 

“Well,” he starts softly and Tony has to strain to hear him. “They say that he is weakened considerably after his friend’s disappearance, and that he is sending most of his forces out looking for him.” He sits back in his chair and takes a long drink from his chalice.

Oh god, they are going to die because of him. 

Crap, shit, fuck.

He has fucked everything up. 

“Interesting.” Loki states and Tony has a feeling the man truly does find it interesting and from the glance he throws Tony, Tony knows that he knows.

“And who might this friend be?”

“Our spies indicate it is Anthony Stark, son of Howard and Maria Stark.” 

And Loki’s eyes turn towards Tony filled with endless possibilities and he squirms under the gaze. Loki goes to stand and Fandral follows clearly knowing that his audience with the Prince is over. 

“Thank you Fandral, send my regards and wishes to my brother.” He shakes the man’s hand, who smiles back and shakes the hand.

“Very well, my lord. Enjoy your day.” And he sends a not so subtle look towards the bed with a lecherous grin and Tony decides that he hates that guy. Screw the fact he seems like a great drinking   
buddy, that guy is an arsehole.

And that’s when it hits him, he can’t be let go anymore, know he knows the do have spies in his friends ranks, listening in to that conversation has guaranteed the fact that he will not ever be leaving this place and that he will be trapped. 

Stuck here as their slave, possibly for the rest of his life and even if the Asgardians lost the battle and Tony was free to return home to see his family, he would not allow himself to live there. He would leave them take up a new name and work in some kind of township as a local blacksmith, no that is too obvious, he would be the local baker or something or work in the fields, no one would expect that, he would have to grow more facial hair or none at all and be completely clean faced for the rest of his life. He shudders at that thought, his facial hair has been with him since he started to grow hair.

“God I hate him.” Loki mutters loud enough for Tony to hear and he turns back around grabbing the chalice and downing the rest of the drink in one swift movement.

Tony is silent for what feels like too long so much information swirling in his head and it feels like it is going to explode and that he is going to go crazy because of it. 

But he just wants to curl in a ball and try and even his breathing and calm the sobbing he knows will happen any moment.

“You’re never going to let me leave, are you?” He asks not even looking at the Prince, his eyes instead focus on the entrance to the tent, something that is so close and yet so far.

There is the sound of the chalice hitting the table with a defining thud that has Tony blink in surprise and look towards the man. 

Loki stares back at him with another smirk and he wants it gone, wants it off the man’s face because fuck him, fuck everyone and fuck this situation.

“What gave it away?” 

And damn it if he wasn’t so sore he would be over there punching the Prince right in the nose.

Instead he just stares just above the man’s shoulder avoiding eye contact. He feels safer when he avoids eye contact.

“No, I think I will keep you.” He says softly as if his own mind had been made up.

And the world comes crashing down, he feels hollow, like a shell. A shell of a man who was literally in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He walks around the tent and for a sickening moment Tony thinks he will get back in the bed and do Lord only knows what to him but instead he picks up a top and throws it over his head, the dark sleeves standing out against his pale skin. 

Tony gets the feeling the man did it on purpose to freak him out and from the glimmer in his eyes he can tell that he is right.

Then he is walking towards him his feet seeming to float in mid-air like walking on air and then he is in front of Tony, kneeling on the bed his knees either side of the blacksmiths legs, holding him in place, not that Tony would have moved, it even hurts to breath but then again that might just be because he was having a panic attack. 

He leans forward slightly and Tony realises this seems way too intimate, like abnormally intimate especially after last night’s events, he knows from experience that once you are done with a whore you throw them out of your tent without a second glance to see if they are okay.

His hand is on his forehead and slowly it trails down his cheek until it is on his chin, where he tugs it closer to him until their lips are inches apart. Tony pulls back but the man’s grip is firm and holds him in place. 

“By day you will forge our weapons.” He says softly his breath tickling Tony’s face, he closes his eyes and tries to ignore everything around him trying to focus on Pepper, he hopes she is okay, hopes he never did this to her, never hurt her like this.

He feels a new anger for the man then. How dare he be so selfish as to worry about him when he could have done this to Pepper, to his wife. 

“Then.” And wow, he must be moving closer, there is a rustling of the sheets and the hand grows softer, their noses touch and he has to stop himself from spitting at the man from letting all his anger out on this creature who would do this to his friends and family. “By night you will warm my bed.”

And suddenly the world around him collapses and his eyes flash open and there is a violent sob that wrecks through his body a comforting hand brushes through his hair and there is the hushes of a man that could be considered sympathetic, if it weren’t for the fact that Tony knows it is more mocking than anything.

As lips brush his softly, almost lovingly a tenses. 

His fate has just been sealed with a kiss.


End file.
